I was really pissed with all this seasonal job business. Busy counting the days, I’d stopped counting the years. Four. A number that hurts. Four years leaving Bugaria on the first day of the summer, happy to move out of the miserable hole in which I’d spent the winter, but at the same time feeling totally void of any recognisable hope for a better future. Just a fucking rolling stone, minus the coolness. Was it time for a good change? I didn’t know. All I knew was that for once, I was glad to be going home.